


do you feel like a young god?

by harlequintessential



Category: Heathers (1988)
Genre: BUT KURT KELLY IS A RAPIST AND IT'S MENTIONED, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Murder, NOT BETWEEN VERONICA AND JD, Past Rape/Non-con, and tbh i can't blame her, au where veronica's kinda into shooting kurt kelly, dark veronica au, darker veronica at least, i guess, kill your local rapist, murder is kind of the answer, not like sexually, please take care of yourself, she's just like "yeah okay i can do this", veronica's been through a lot and while murder isn't the answer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 06:38:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15382869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harlequintessential/pseuds/harlequintessential
Summary: He'd hurt her once. Made her feel small and weak, like there was no escape. Now the tables were turned, and Veronica was going to make him feel like prey before she tired of playing.In which Veronica is a little more gung-ho about shooting Kurt Kelly.





	do you feel like a young god?

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "Young God" by Halsey. Please read and review!

Her hands are shaking, soft fingers not quite strong or brave enough to make the final movement to end a life. Kurt is staring her down, eyes wide and afraid, like he’s some kind of _prey_ animal. Which, Veronica supposes, would make her the  _predator_.

It’s a deliciously intoxicating feeling, one that bubbles in her stomach and chest, to see _Kurt Kelly,_ the all star football player that made her early life _hell,_  look so afraid. To look so afraid of _her_. He is genuinely terrified of little old Veronica Sawyer, and if that’s not delicious she doesn’t know what the fuck is.

And maybe it’s that fear, that deep horror currently turning one of Westerburg’s _deities_ into a stilled deer, that gives her the courage to do this. She knows it will kill him. Ram is clearly already dead, and there will be time to be angry at JD for lying to her later. She might not have shown up with the intention to kill a man, but as the opportunity is presenting itself…

There is sweat gathering in her palms and trickling down the back of her neck, and a memory comes, unbidden, of a time that she felt as afraid as Kurt currently looks.

* * *

His hands were calloused, rough, unwanted. A violent and uncomfortable presence on Veronica's hips as he pulled her close to him. “You look so _hot_ tonight, ‘Ronica.”

“Oh, God. Thanks, Kurt, I... appreciate that. I, uh, I should probably get going! Looks like Heather needs my help with something!”

His fingers tightened, enough to press against her bones, an aching sensation that made her wriggle in an effort to get free. “Heather’ll be fine. Stay here with me.”

“No, Kurt, I’ve had a really nice time, but—”

His nails dug into her skin, enough to make her cry out. “Didn’t think I’d made it sound like I was _asking,_ sweetheart.” And then his hand was sliding up underneath the hem of her shirt, roughly clasping around her right breast as he leaned in with breath that reeked of vodka and corn nuts, lips that were too hot and wet and _close_ , and Veronica wanted to scream but already knew nobody would come to her aid.

This was what happened to girls like her. This was the price to be paid for popularity.

So she gritted her teeth as tears poured from her eyes, and Kurt Kelly did whatever he wanted.

* * *

And at the end of the day, it is _that_ that does it for her. As she remembers what his fingers felt like in her mouth as he tried to get them wet enough to fuck her with, her own finger twitches.

That’s all it takes. One little twitch.

A cracking noise bursts through the dawn, breaking the quiet like the sun through the trees. Kurt Kelly jerks, grunts, falls; a piercing pain blooms in Veronica's palms from the kick of the gun. She steps closer to the body without thinking about it, crouching to transfer the gun from her hand into his own. There’s such a wounded fucking look on his stupid fucking face, like he didn’t actually think she would do it.

Veronica is sick and tired of people underestimating her.

JD, for his part, clasps his hands together and flashes her a grin. “Holy _shit_ , Veronica, that was _cold_. Your face was _ice_ , baby; I knew you had it in you!”

She pierces him with a look. “You’re still in huge trouble. Ich luge bullets? You _lied_ to me, JD!”

He has the decency to look at least somewhat abashed, though it’s mostly ruined by the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I didn’t think you’d want to go through with the _plan_ if it ended with a body count. I see now I may have been wrong.”

“I mean. We killed them, didn’t we?”

A slow, full-on smile this time, an arch of his eyebrow as he looks at her. “Sure did. Tell me, darling, do you feel like a god yet?”

She can’t help but smile back, as something powerful and dark bursts in her chest with a poisonous fluttering of wings. He’s not wrong. Her hands ache, her temples are throbbing, there’s blood on her fingers, and she feels incredible. She feels untouchable. She feels…

She _does_ feel like God. And there’s JD, divine and miraculous, and she supposes that makes them gods together.

“Let’s get out of here. Cops must’ve heard the shots, and we’re too cute to go to prison.”

JD’s smile bursts into full-colour, like she's never seen him happy before. It’s endearing and beautiful and completely fucking unhinged, and Veronica is so in love she can barely speak. “Damned right,” he says, and he holds out his hand. Inviting her fully to join him in hell.

She takes it, hissing as sensitive skin meets resistance—and they run.


End file.
